Cuddle Up To Me
by ImagineBackstory
Summary: Jess has been told he's good at cuddling, so he might as well get paid for it. AU sort-of literati. One-shot.


A/N: So...this is an actual thing. An actual service that exists. I don't know if I want to try it nor just think it's weird...seems a bit sketchy, to me. Anyhow, I haven't forgotten about Eight and a Half, I just had this little ficlet in mind and decided to pen my first AU R/J one-shot. Please review!

**Cuddle Up To Me**

by Imagine Backstory

Bracing myself, I turn the lock on my front door and pull it open. "Uh, hi." I bite my lip.

He smirks. I feel like I might fall over. "Hey."

I step aside and open the door wider to allow for him to pass over the threshold. He has his hands in his pockets, his thumbs sticking out, and he lopes into the foyer, looking around nonchalantly. I shut the door and lean on it momentarily, nerves clenching in my stomach. "Do I...shake your hand?" I ask, unsure.

He pivots lazily on his heel, and that amused smirk is back on his lips. He extends his hand towards me. "I'm Jess."

"Rory." I take his large hand in my own and notice the contrast in our skin tones. His fingers squeeze mine briefly before he lets go. "Uh, do you want something to drink?"

He regards me, mirth in his molten hazel eyes. "Sure."

He follows me into the kitchen, leaning in the doorway as I cross to the fridge. "I've got water, OJ, milk...beer?"

I feel my face redden as he chuckles. "Water's fine." His gaze is hot on me as I move to collect a glass from a cabinet. "First time, huh?"

"What makes you say that?" I ask, too quickly, avoiding his gaze as I fill a glass with water.

He peers at me from under his thick, dark lashes as he sips the water through his smile. "Nervous?"

I fold my arms across my chest, shrugging. "It is a little weird," I admit quietly.

He runs a hand through his already tousled hair. I allow myself to study him for a moment. He's cute, I have to admit that. In fact, I'd sooner place him in the hot category; he's generally dark in colouring, tall but not towering, his body lean and catlike, with what can tell is defined muscle under his thin t-shirt. I swallow nervously and take a sip of my own water. I realize they do these things anonymously for a reason, but I never expected someone so good looking to show up at my door.

He's talking. "Always is at first, a little. But you'll get used to it." He sets his empty glass down on my counter and steps towards me, chuckling as I instinctively take a step back. "We can start with a hug?" He raises an eyebrow, holding his arms out in invitation.

Hesitantly, I set my own glass down, and step into his embrace. His arms come around me, holding me to his chest, as my hands curl by my chin on his sternum. He smells spicy, like a masculine aftershave, and as I feel his palms gently rubbing my back I try to remind myself to relax. I murmur into his shirt, "This all just feels a little...salacious."

The gentle hum of his laugh rumbles beneath my cheek, but he doesn't respond. Shifting, I pull away from him, tucking my hair behind my ears. "Uh...So, how do we do this?"

"You want bed? Or couch?" he asks, gesturing around my small studio apartment.

"Um." I blush. "Bed."

He grins and saunters off towards it, pausing to glance at my bookshelf. He leans forward, hands back in his pockets, to look at some of the titles. "Bit of a literary junkie, eh?"

"We're called literati," I reply somewhat brightly, surprised that he seems interested. "You read?"

His mouth twists into a lopsided leer. "Not much." He faces me and jerks his head towards the bed. "Shall we?"

I perch on the edge of my bed, my fingers nervously interlocking. He just splays out next to me on his back, making himself at home, and sighs contentedly, burrowing in a little. "Thank god, a comfy bed."

I turn my body to look at him. "Don't get that often?" I ask, eyebrows raised.

"Not as often as you'd expect." He sticks his arms out, fingers spread wide, beckoning me. "C'mere."

I lie down beside him, keeping a slight distance between our bodies, and curl my head towards his shoulder. He chuckles and his arms come around me, pulling me flush into his side, my head coming forward to rest on the juncture of his shoulder and breast plate. I can tell that underneath his shirt he is all lean muscle, but he still somehow feels soft under my cheek. As his arms circle me and his feet tangle with mine at the ankles, I feel myself start to relax.

I let my breathing be guided by the gentle rise and fall of his chest as he holds me. I glance up now and then, and each time I see that he's just lying there, eyes closed, a natural look on his face. His fingers trace lazy circles on my arms, so I know he's awake. It's clear why he has this job—he's like a statue, save for his fingers. I, on the other hand, can't stop fidgeting and squirming; even though I'm physically comfortable, I can't quite wrap my head around the fact that I am _actually_ doing this.

His voice, though quiet, startles me in the silence. "You'd never be hired for this."

"Huh?"

His eyes are still closed, but his lips have curled upwards. "You keep moving. Try to relax. I'm not going anywhere for an hour."

I take a couple deep breaths, trying to do as I'm told. "How can you lie so still?" I ask, my fingers absently tangling in his t-shirt.

Still, he smirks. "Practice."

Realizing that talking makes me feel a bit more comfortable, I try to keep the conversation going. "So, how much is not much?"

He opens one eye and peers down at me.

"What is much?" I clarify, nodding my chin towards my bookcase.

He closes his eye again. When he doesn't respond, I shrink into him a little. "Is this normally a no talking kind of thing?"

"Sometimes," he says after a beat. "Sometimes not."

"Do you mind either way?"

The smirk is back. "Nope." Finally, he does move, if only to scratch the bridge of his nose. "I read when I can, really. Mostly classic stuff."

"Like?"

He sighs. "Salinger, Vonnegut. Hemmingway."

I make a face. "Hemmingway?"

"Problem?"

"He's boring."

The shoulder beneath my head lifts slightly in a shrug. "To each his own."

"Blech."

He chuckles. "Hey, I'm being paid to cuddle here, not to be judged on my literary preferences." He pulls my shoulder upwards as if hugging me. "He only has lovely things to say about you," he murmurs into my hair.

I feel a tingly sensation spread from where his lips touched me right down to my toes. A shiver bubbles to the surface and I instinctively burrow deeper against his side, hiding my face in his chest.

We lie still like that for awhile. I can hear a lawnmower going outside, and the whole building creaks as the air conditioning comes on. It's just the right temperature in the place—a rare occurrence in the dead of summer—and I find that a warm, sticky sensation quickly overcomes me, lulling me towards sleep. Jess seems determined to keep me awake, however; his fingers never still on me, always massaging or soothing in some way. I figure he has probably been fallen asleep upon too many times.

I feel the rumble of his voice as he speaks. "Comfy?"

"Hmm." I nod, wiggling a little.

"Don't wanna switch it up at all?"

I look up at him. "Have something in mind?"

He shrugs. "We could spoon."

My face warms at the idea, but I suddenly get the urge to turn over onto my other side. Nodding, I shift, rotating on the bed. His arms stay around me and he shapes his body to mine, nudging my knees with his own. I can feel his breath on the back of my neck as he pulls me close, and I blush knowing that my backside is in line with his groin. Fleetingly, I wonder if he's ever gotten aroused in this position.

But he stays tame, just breathing evenly against my neck and ear, his arms fastened securely around me. I'm almost certain he has dozed off when he murmurs, "You smell good."

I don't know what to say other than "Thank you". Then, "How did you end up in this profession? If you don't mind me asking."

"Why would I mind?" he asks. "I've been told I'm good at cuddling. Might as well get paid for it."

Nuzzling deeper into his embrace, I sigh contentedly. "You are good."

"Heh," he chuckles, squeezing me with his arms.

I suddenly realize with a slight bit of horror that _I'm aroused_. I know it's against the rules for anything sexual to happen during these sessions—but the feeling of the swell of his chest against my back and the curve of his pelvis aligning with my own suddenly has my thoughts swirling into the gutter. I'm very glad now that we're spooning, as I'm sure it's probably evident across my face what I'm feeling. I was caught off guard by the beauty of the man they sent me, and now I feel a telltale flutter in my abdomen as I lie here in his arms.

Involuntarily, I squirm. He makes a brief "hmphf" noise at my movement and pulls away from me slightly; my back feels cold with the absence of him and I whimper in protest. He chuckles lazily. "Sorry," he says, "you kept moving against me."

I blush so quickly my head spins. I remain motionless, curled up in a ball on my side, unable to look at him. "Sorry," I manage to choke out.

"Happens all the time," he whispers rather huskily. "It's only natural." He shifts and I know he's checking his watch. "Ten minutes left. Anything else you want to do?"

I shake my head, burying my face in my pillow. His laugh tinkles around the room and his hand is on my shoulder, coaxing me to roll over on to my back. Hair splayed beneath me over the pillow, I cover my face with my hands after seeing the amused smirk on his face. He pries my fingers away, leaning over me, and gently traces my facial features with the very tips of his fingers. I shiver in response to his touch, but I let him explore me, his touch feather-light on my skin.

This continues for a few minutes, until Jess suddenly sighs and pulls me to him, tangling our legs together and pressing our bodies flush against each-other. I push my cheek against his chest, once again enjoying the feeling of being cocooned in his embrace. His hands splay across my back, rubbing in wide circles, and then one hand comes up to caress the back of my head, tangling fingers in my hair. Tugging gently, he pulls my head back so that I'm looking at him. Leaning forward, he plants the lighest of kisses on my hairline. "Same time next week?" he whispers.

I nod. He smiles and pulls away, pulling my sheets up to my shoulders and tucking me in. The last thing I see before I drift off to sleep are his molten hazel eyes, alight with amusement as he regards me from the doorway before departing.

* * *

A/N: Hope you enjoyed this little ficlet. Reviews are always appreciated. I doubt I will take this beyond a one-shot, but who knows.


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